


id (serenity)

by Dawn_Blossom



Series: Chrom/Grima in Askr [8]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Family Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 05:06:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17155844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawn_Blossom/pseuds/Dawn_Blossom
Summary: Chrom and Morgan play a game of tome stackers.





	id (serenity)

**Author's Note:**

> Merry crisis everybody... might I offer you some family fluff in these trying times?
> 
> ... Title is from the Fire Emblem Awakening OST, of course. I know it's the song's title and not actual lyrics... But I couldn't think of anything better...
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic ^^

“Hey… Chrom…?”

Chrom turns from his seat at Grima’s desk to see Morgan clutching a book to her chest.

“What can I do for you, Morgan?” he asks. “Or were you looking for your father…?”

“No, I know he’s out with the armor units today,” Morgan says. “I was looking for you Because… Well, you spend a lot of time with my father.”

“Yes, I certainly do,” Chrom says, blinking.

“Well, don’t you think you’re neglecting something important of his?” 

“Neglecting…? Something important?” Chrom frowns as he tries to rack his brain. “Er, there’s not an anniversary of some sort that I’m missing, is there?”

“No!” Morgan exclaims. “Well, maybe… I wouldn't know about that. But I’m talking about something else!”

Chrom can only stare helplessly at her.

“Um, his DAUGHTER?” Morgan rolls her eyes. “Don’t you think you owe it to spend a little time with me? I mean, I’m the the apple of his loins, and all that stuff.”

Chrom blanches.

“That’s not quite… I think you mean ‘apple of his eye,’ er…” He clears his throat. “Nevermind. Morgan, is this your way of asking to spend the day with me?”

Morgan shifts on her feet, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

“Well, if you’re OFFERING…” Suddenly, she slams her book on the desk. “It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone to play tome stackers with.”

“Tome stackers?” Chrom echoes. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with whatever that is…”

“It’s a game!” Morgan smiles widely. “You take all the tomes you can get your hands on and stack them up in a huge tower! Tome stackers! You’ve really never played it?”

“There are several people who would have had me at the end of their blades if I had tried to play games with any of the castle’s tomes back in Ylisstol,” Chrom says. “I already had a reputation for destroying weapons and training dummies. I wouldn’t want books added to that list.”

“Okay, but you haven’t even played it with Father?” Morgan giggles. “It’s his favorite game, you know.”

“I thought chess was his favorite,” Chrom says. He certainly seems to enjoy it when they play together. Then again, Grima plans strategies all day. Perhaps chess just feels like more of the same. That’s not really what games are supposed to be about… 

Morgan shrugs.

“Chess is nice and all,” she says. “But nothing beats the feeling of skillully constructing a tower taller than you are! You HAVE to try it!”

“Well…” Chrom chuckles. Her enthusiasm is endearing, and he certainly doesn’t mind spending a bit of leisure time with her. She’s so dedicated to training and studying that it can only be a good thing for her to take a break. And unlike her father, she clearly does not have to be pushed into relaxing. “Alright. Show me how to play.”

Morgan’s eyes sparkle with delight.

“Okay. Don’t move,” she says. “I’ll be right back with everything we need.”

She takes her time. Chrom is starting to wonder if she’s forgotten about him when she finally returns… with a cart?

“This is my personal collection,” she says, gesturing to the mass of books haphazardly tossed into the cart. “Now we’ll just add Father’s collection to it and—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Chrom interrupts just as Morgan begins to pull a thick tome down from one of Grima’s shelves. “Are you sure he’s okay with this?”

“Sure,” Morgan says cheerfully. “He lets me borrow his books anytime I want. He lets you, too, doesn’t he?”

“Yes…” Chrom agrees. “But I believe the idea is that I would borrow them should I desire to _read_ them.”

“Father knows what he’s doing,” Morgan says. “If he wanted to restrict our use of his stuff, he’d say so outright.”

It’s true; Grima would have said something… And yet Chrom can’t help but feel that exactly such an instruction will be forthcoming if any of his books suffer so much as a creased page.

“Maybe we should start with the ones you brought,” he suggests. “I am but a beginner, after all.”

Morgan pauses for a moment in consideration.

“I guess we can start small,” she agrees, though she takes the book that is already in her hands and adds it to the pile.

Half an hour later, Chrom cannot believe that this is what she considers “starting small.” Between both of their efforts, they’ve managed to form a stack of books so tall that even Chrom is having to strain to put more on top. Morgan thankfully stopped trying to jump several layers ago, instead choosing to order Chrom around with all the presence of a true tactician.

“Well, this is the last of my stash,” she says, handing him a slim novel. “Put it on top!”

Chrom stretches, even balancing on his toes (it aggravates his old injury a bit, but he refuses to let Morgan know that the activity is paining him). 

“Wait, what are you doing?” Morgan exclaims. “You’re going to knock it down like that!”

She tugs on his arm, and Chrom immediately stops.

“I can’t reach any father,” he says. “Morgan, this tower is unreasonably tall as it is.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Morgan grins proudly. “You’re pretty good at this, actually. But… Hm…”

She narrows her eyes, taking a couple of steps around the tower.

“We can fit more,” she says, eying the mass calculatingly. “If we could just… Oh! I know!”

She turns back to Chrom with wide, bright eyes.

“Put me on your shoulders!” she demands.

“You think you can reach it that way…” Chrom frowns. She is probably correct, but he isn’t sure it’s a good idea to let her climb all over him. “Would it not be easier to find some sort of stool to stand on?”

“Oh, but that would take too long,” Morgan says. “Come on, this will only take a second! We’re so close to finishing!”

Chrom cannot muster any resolve in the face of Morgan’s hopeful look. He cannot bear to disappoint her, and even less so when he thinks of all the hardships she must have suffered in her world. He was not there for her or Grima there, could not have made either of them feel peace or happiness. Here, however…

“I think my body will support you,” he says. “Just… be careful getting up there.”

Surprisingly, she _is_ careful. There is a moment where she squeezes her arms too tightly around him, as though she were going to embrace him rather than scale him, but then she lifts her feet, and with a little boost from Chrom, she is soon sitting safely upon his shoulders.

“Is this what it’s like to be tall?” She laughs joyfully, and Chrom cannot keep the smile off of his own face.

“Now that you’re taller than our tower,” he says. “Would you care to do the honors?”

He passes the novel up to her, and with careful precision, she places it atop the other tomes.

“We did it!” she cheers.

“So did we beat tome stackers?” Chrom asks, chuckling. 

“Almost!” Morgan says. 

“A-Almost?” Chrom blinks. “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to add your father’s tomes to this one!”

“The structure of this tower would not allow you to add anything heavier than a few sheets of paper to the top of it,” Grima’s voice comes from behind them.

Chrom turns around, meeting his lover’s amused gaze. Morgan, still on his shoulders, gives her father a little wave.

Slowly, Grima’s expression stretches into a smirk. He walks over to the precarious stack of tomes, looks it up and down, and leans close to it. Then… he taps on it.

Suddenly, a hundred or so tomes are crashing to the ground..

“And that, Chrom,” Grima says, looking incredibly pleased with himself, “is how you end a game of tome stackers.”

“Usually the stack falls over a lot sooner, though,” Morgan says as she removes herself from Chrom’s shoulders. “I must be getting better!”

Chrom glances at Grima His expression is neutral, and yet…

He really did enjoy knocking that thing down.

Oh, poor Morgan. It must be hard playing a game of order with a deity of chaos.

“You should play dominoes sometime,” Chrom suggests, chuckling. “Have you heard of that game?”

“If I have, I do not remember,” Grima says. Morgan shakes her head in affirmance.

“Well, there are a bunch of rectangular tiles with dots on them,” Chrom explains. “And there are several ways to play with the dots corresponding to numbers, but… Er, their shape allows them to stand up, but also to be easily toppled. Many people set them up in patterns just to knock them down and watch the way they fall.”

“So these patterns…” Grima tilts his head, seeming interested. “They take strategy to manipulate, yes?”

“Considerable strategy,” Chrom says, smiling. “One careless move and the whole thing goes down before you’re ready.”

“Well, then… It may be of some use to practice at it,” Grima says. “What do you think, Morgan?”

“It sounds fun,” Morgan says. “I mean, not as fun as tome stackers, but I think we should give it a try! Are you going to teach us, Chrom?”

“If that’s what you want,” Chrom replies. “Though perhaps not tonight. It’s almost time for dinner, and Grima, didn’t you want to discuss Aether techniques with me?”

“Indeed.” Grima comes closer, resting a hand on Chrom’’s arm. “Many of the other heroes have taken to learning it, but it is the secret art of the House of Ylisse. Though I have a combat manual, I would like to have your input.”

“Well, I’m not using Aether, so I think I’ll pass,” Morgan says. “Just tell me when we’re going to do this thing, okay? Oh, and we should invite Lucina, too! Does she know how to play?”

“She might.” Chrom knows he taught his daughter how to play dominoes as a child. But would such a trivial memory survive years of war? “I can teach her as well, if she does not.”

Chrom smiles at the thought of them all together. This is the kind of family life he’s always wanted to have. Not meetings regarding political marriage with a woman who deserved far better than him, not a few fleeting conversations with a child that war was always separating him from, but these warm moments of having his loved ones all around him…

“I’ll see you later, then!” Morgan says cheerfully as she heads out the door.

Her voice breaks Chrom out of his thoughts, and he realizes something.

“Er…” Chrom nudges a book with his foot. “Aren’t these all hers?”

Grima picks up one of the tomes, placing it carefully into the cart Morgan had brought them in,

“She’ll come back for them,” he says. “... By tomorrow, at least.”

He picks up another book, and Chrom can’t help but chuckle.

“You indulge her.” Not that Chrom is one to talk, having just carried her around on his shoulders, but…

Grima does not deny it.


End file.
